im lead eye lidded; leaning over the insides of my
i dont even know anymore
the constant knot in my stomach;the nausea that
empties its toxins through me
isnt it surprising that, they speak to you like you
are real
and ask you for your name, your signature
and a date of birth
as if they are the only reminders of a presence in
this reality. im falling back inside of me.
as i have the sun and the moon, and for at least
twelve hours the stars
i always forget theres more then what they are
i have to walk on footpaths and into post
offices
and write something to prove I am not just
a delusion, a figure of someone else's dream
I have to see the handwriting or the text on the screen
to remind me I'm not dead
to remind my veins the world hasnt come to an end.
'how are you going?' tilted head to the side, as if they
care and curiosity isnt kicking and alive
Going? I'm not going. I'm spinning deeper and deeper
into a world I'm not even sure exists, standing still
but moving faster than anybody thought humanly capable